


watermelons

by quassia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quassia/pseuds/quassia
Summary: Bugbear Hunk has a crush on mercenary Keith the size of the sun. He's pretty sure he hasn't noticed.He really wishes that Lance would stop cutting in at the best possible times, though.





	watermelons

**Author's Note:**

> fairytale aus... monster boys... big monster boys...
> 
> my Thing

“I can’t believe he’s still coming around.”

Lance’s cheek was pressed into his palm, his lips worked into a skeptical frown. His wings lay flat to his back, remarkable considering that he was floating right behind Hunk’s chair, elbow propped against the top of the couch. _Fairies_ , Hunk thought, and glanced with barely repressed eagerness out of one of the windows that afforded a good view of the front of the house.

Indeed, there was a man walking up to the front door, a man with hair partially in his eyes, eyes that Hunk knew were a shade of violet, just from that one time he’d gotten a close glimpse at them. A crossbow on his back, belt littered with pouches, a worn rucksack; your quintessential mercenary.

“Lance, be nice,” Hunk said as he rose, fiddling nervously with his shirt.

“Honey, you look fine,” Lance said dryly, flipping so that he was floating upside-down and Hunk had never seen him look quite so unimpressed. “I’m sure your date will _love you_.”

Hunk garbled out an embarrassed _stop it_ as he hurried to the front door. He stopped, just to give the man a chance to knock before he had an overly enthusiastic bugbear throwing open the door for him. One, two, three sharp, neat raps on the door and Hunk counted to ten very slowly in his head before he opened up the door.

It was his imagination that saw Keith’s eyes going soft, one of his barely-there smiles appearing. “Hunk. Afternoon.”

“Hey.” One of these days he’d be super smooth. One of them, but today wasn’t that day, because he was just smiling stupidly instead. “How’re you? Wanna come in? Headed back from work?”

“Yeah.”

He stepped in, only whenever he received an invitation. He’d been like that from the start, from the very first (disastrous) time that they had met each other. No matter how many times Hunk mentioned that his front door was usually unlocked, Keith could walk right in if he wanted to, Keith stubbornly knocked every time.

It was very gentlemanly. Hunk’s heart was atwitter. And for an almost seven-foot tall bugbear, that was no small feat.

“And there he is,” Lance crowed as they re-entered the living room. Keith froze for a second before his relaxed expression twisted into a small scowl. “It’s the mullet, here right on time! I swear, do you have to come here every day? Like, every day?”

“I don’t,” Keith snapped.

“Aw, Lance. C’mon.”

Lance lowered himself to the floor with a haughty sniff, his gossamer wings twitching. There were very few humans that had earned his regard, mostly because of Hunk. They’d grown up together, Lance and his family part of a troupe of travelling merchants, the only merchants _ever_ who’d trade with the odd bugbear who lived alone in the woods, growing his own vegetables and so on. He was fiercely protective of Hunk (and vice versa) and had never been pleased with any of Hunk’s bad experiences with humans who saw a big fuzzy monster man and thought _kill it_.

“I’m just looking out for my best friend’s interests! And _safety_ ,” Lance said pointedly, squinting at Keith.

(He had never and would never let Keith live down the fact that he’d almost gone for his crossbow the first time he’d laid eyes on Hunk.)

Keith’s cheeks coloured up in angry red and he took a step forward like he was about two seconds from tackling Lance to the floor. “He’s safe with me,” he said vehemently and Hunk’s heart fluttered before he sighed and headed out to go get some drinks for them all. He could still hear them perfectly well, which was fine.

“What, really? I dunno about that. What if—”

Hunk absently tuned Lance out as Lance started going on and on about made-up scenarios, about townsfolk with pitchforks and torches marching upon Hunk in the night. He hummed and leaned up to pluck some of the containers from the cupboard, torn between hot chocolate or one of those fresh, fruity teas that were amazing when they were cold. Hmm. What would calm them down? Maybe hot chocolate. He was hoping for a sedating effect.

“Wow, they’re at it again, huh?” a dry voice piped up at his elbow.

“Hey, Pidge,” Hunk greeted absently, no longer surprised. She squinted sidelong at him, as though disappointed that he hadn’t even jumped. She only reached barely above his elbow as far as height was concerned, gobliney ears twitching as she watched what Hunk was doing.

She opened her mouth, but Hunk dutifully fetched down another mug so she shut it and nodded approval.

“Today’s, like, a party. Everyone I know is showing up,” Hunk commented as the bickering went on in the background. They’d moved from concern about Hunk’s safety to concerns over the safety of the house in general and defenses and it appeared they were managing to both agree and argue over how Hunk needed to lock his doors and maybe build a huge wall around the premises.

“Uh, I’m just here for work,” Pidge sniffed, hoisting herself up into a seat at the dining room table. She had her own Pidge-exclusive seat, and she lounged in it, as imperious as a queen. “I got those components that you wanted, and I’m here about my payment.”

Her eyes gleamed… yeah, that was about the Pidge way. He relied on her to get what Lance couldn’t, and they had a good trade system on except when she was being stubborn and inflexible about the trade in question.

“Lucky for _you_ , I just finished up something—”

“Hunk,” Keith barked as he strode into the kitchen, Lance at his side, “I said it’d be better to get cold iron locks but Lance is making a fuss about _him_ not being able to get in, but what if there’s bad fey out there, it’d be better overall—oh.”

Pidge languorously waved.

“Seriously? First Keith, now Pidge?” Lance groaned.

“This is a party, I swear.” In relatively high spirits, Hunk just set out the mugs on the table and waved for Keith and Lance to sit.

Keith didn’t, standing and tapping his foot in agitation and Hunk looked _hard_ at Lance for riling up him when Hunk imagined he’d already _had_ a high stress day and sure didn’t need his place of respite to fire him up too.

…He hoped it was a place of respite for him, at least.

“Keith, I wanted to show you something. Uh, be right back, guys. Lance, keep Pidge company,” Hunk directed with a pointed jab of his index finger at him. Lance spread apart his hands with a flabbergasted expression, ready to argue, but Hunk was out of there as fast as his legs could possibly take him, bringing Keith along.

“He doesn’t have to act like I’m going to attack you,” Keith grouched quietly. “Because I’m _not_. Hunk, do you think I’m going to?”

“No way, buddy. I trust you.”

Keith was immediately mollified though he compressed his lips like he was trying not to show it. His tense shoulders relaxed as they headed down the comely hallway of Hunk’s little cottage, every inch cleaned within an inch of its life (and decorated, with flowers here and there). They were heading toward the back door out and Keith looked at him curiously as they went.

“…So, what did you want to show me?”

“Oh it’s… nothing big?” Hunk slowed, dragging his feet. Maybe Keith wouldn’t care about it as much? Maybe it wouldn’t be interesting to him? He had mostly been looking to get him away from Lance for a hot second and now he was feeling self-conscious about it. Especially when Keith looked at him so seriously, so intently, he felt like just crawling into the ground. “Just, uh…”

Keith waited patiently.

“Out here. C’mon.”

Hunk was _proud_ of his garden. It was huge, expansive, all lovingly fenced in in what Hunk thought was a pretty way. Even the fences were draped with foliage, with wandering vines that changed by the day. Everything smelled warmer, sweeter, earthier out here and Hunk enjoyed it even as much as he enjoyed his tinkering or the smell of oil and metal as well. He’d taken Keith to the garden before and Keith’s gaze roved, searching out what Hunk had to show him.

It was further in, so he took Keith’s hand in his big one (furred, clawed, soft beans among the fur) and eagerly tugged him. He didn’t notice Keith flush.

“Ta-da!”

And when they reached it, he gestured grandly, trying to make a bigger deal out of it than it actually was. Keith cocked his head. “Watermelon?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah, man. They’re growing really nice, I say we can split one open and have it in the next couple of weeks?” Hunk crouched down after letting go of Keith’s hand to lovingly thump it. “It was my first time growing them this year, Lance got the seeds for me and I’m surprised they’re growing fine considering I can _never_ grow a pumpkin to save my life.”

He glared toward where he usually planted pumpkins and Keith chuckled. It was such a nice sound and it caused a flush of warmth and one of these days his crush on Keith was going to get _so_ out of hand but that day wasn’t today.

“I’d like to have some when it’s finished growing,” Keith murmured. “Surprised you can’t grow a pumpkin, though. I figured you must have some kind of magic considering how you grow everything else.”

“What? Nah… it's just hard work,” Hunk muttered, ducking his chin down.

Quiet fell briefly between them. Hunk tried not to feel self-conscious, tried to tell himself that he was imagining Keith watching him as he stood up and dusted off both of his hands. Keith shifted closer, looking up at him and _okay_ not his imagination after all.

“…I know I keep pushing on this, but,” Keith began, jaw clenching, “really. I won’t hurt you, ever; I’ll look out for you.”

Oh, _heck_.

“What,” Hunk spluttered, thankful for the fur that hid any possible flush, and shook his head. “I’ve never thought you’d hurt me? I mean, sure there was that thing when we met but I know you’re a good guy, Keith. Lance loves to pick fights sometimes but I swear he likes you more than he lets on.”

He watched, entranced, as Keith licked his lips, maintaining direct eye contact. “What about y—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Lance hollered from the kitchen window, “your drinks are getting cold!”

Hunk seriously considered cold iron locks in that moment.

Keith, on the other hand, flushed red and whipped around so fast that Hunk was surprised he hadn’t pulled out his crossbow at the same time. “ _Do you mind,”_ he shouted and stomped toward the window. Cackling, Lance slammed the window shut and Keith went for the door.

Hunk stood in the garden a long moment, gazing at his tomatoes without seeing them.

 _He was totally going to ask me if I liked him,_ Hunk thought, giddy.

He was really going to have to make sure that Lance and Pidge weren’t around next time Keith stopped by.


End file.
